Hip To Be
by LadieLazarus
Summary: Kitty's slang disturbs Pete. Pryde/Wisdom.


Title: Hip to Be

Fandom: X-men

Pairing: Pryde/Wisdom

Rating: Smut.

Prompt: 043 Square

A/N: Apparently, office!sex is a kink I didn't know I had. *****shrug* It doesn't help/hurt that Pete's position provides for a lot of it.

Beta'd by lyssie

Pete strode into Kitty's computer lab, ignoring the greetings of half of the staff that called out perfunctorily as he entered. Instead, he headed directly for Kitty's workstation, where she was set up in front of all three of her monitors, diligently typing something.

"Well, Pryde?"

"Well what?" Kitty's hands didn't even pause on the keyboard, her head still focused on whatever she was accomplishing.

"Where the fuck are they?"

"I told you. They'll be done when they're done."

"That answer is no longer satisfactory. We're going to have to move on this a little bit sooner than we originally anticipated."

"How much sooner?" Kitty paused in her typing, turning to look at him.

"How soon can you get those documents finished?" Pete shrugged, impatiently. He was never a big one for waiting, and waiting for computer stuff was even worse, in his opinion.

"At the risk of sounding cliché, Wisdom, do you want it done fast or do you want it done right?"

"At the risk of being an ass, Pryde, I want both."

She sighed heavily, turning back to her work.

"It'll be done in a minute. Just chilax, okay?"

"Chill what now?"

"Chillax."

"Chil—Ah. I See what you did there with the chill and the relax. Yeah. Don't say that anymore."

"What's wrong, Pete, you don't chillax?' Kitty giggled.

"Pryde, in all my life, with all of the things I've done, I have never, for even a second, remotely considered the possibility of 'chillaxing.'" Pete pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"Maybe you should."

"Maybe you should both knock it off. You're giving me a migraine." One of the other techs in the office, named Melissa, gave them both a dirty look.

"Excuse me?"

"Knock it off, sir?" She tried again, and Pete's face broke into a slight smile.

"Right. That's better." Pete nodded. "Fine, Pryde. Come on, then. If we're going to discuss this, we had better do it elsewhere to avoid infringing on the mental health of my employees."

"Fair enough, Director Wisdom." Kitty snorted, saving her progress before standing up.

"Don't mock the title, Pryde. I'm the one what signs your paychecks, after all." Pete shook his head, turning to lead the way out of the lab.

"So, what's the status of this in terms of hours?" Pete asked, once they were safely into the corridor away from the techs.

"This?" Kitty nodded towards the laptop in her arms. "It's done."

"It's done?" Pete asked in disbelief. "Then why all the hullabaloo about me 'chillin' out' or whatever?"

"Chillaxing, Pete. The expression is chillax." Kitty walked, ahead of him, into his office. He shut the door behind them.

"I thought I asked you not to say it anymore."

"I can't help but say it if you're going to butcher it all over the place." Kitty dropped heavily into a chair in front of his desk. "You know what?"

"What, Pryde?" Pete sat at his desk, idly checking his blackberry for new messages.

"Jardine's office so had a better view than yours."

"He was head of all of British Intelligence. I'm only head of one department."

"So? As far as I can tell, you both answer to the same person. I don't really see what the difference is."

"The difference, Pryde, is that, technically, if the woman that is currently occupying that office with a view wanted to jam me up, then she could." Pete shrugged, drumming his fingers on the desktop. He wished he could smoke in his office.

"They have a woman over there now?"

"Yeah. Have had ever since Jardine bit it." Pete shrugged.

"Ah. How poetic." Kitty made a face.

"Never claimed to be Tennyson."

"True." She nodded, opening her laptop and setting it on the desk in front of her.

"So, indulge me now and answer my original question."

"Which was?"

"If this is finished, why that production back in the lab?"

"Ulterior Motives." She grinned. God help him, he loved that grin.

"How so, exactly?"

"I knew that you'd bring me in here to chew me out. I also know that you don't have another meeting for forty-five minutes." She shrugged easily.

"So you lied to me to get me alone?"

"Not only is the database finished, coded, and encrypted, but it's been sent to the appropriate departments for their approval. You don't have to hear about it again, and they'll be able to use it on the mission as soon as they want to." She tapped a few keys on her keyboard, checking her own email.

"So that's a yes?" Pete smirked.

"Yeah, you arrogant bastard, that's a yes." She snickered.

He fell silent for a minute, and she was half-afraid that he was going to reprimand her. Then, his face broke into a wide smile and she let out a breath that she didn't know that she was holding.

"Pryde, I could kiss you."

"That's the general idea, bub." She shrugged. Rising to walk around and jump up onto his desk, facing him, her long dancer's legs swinging free.

He stood, and she prepared herself from the kiss, only to be surprised when he grabbed her waist pushing her backward to lie across the desk. She shifted a bit, pushing random desk paraphernalia out of her way. "What in the hell are you doing, Wisdom?"

"Exactly what I promised." Pete shrugged, rocking back on his heels as though plotting his next course of action. "After a fashion."

"Uh-huh. I fail to see exactly how you—" She stopped mid-sentence, suddenly short of breath, when his hands traced her legs up underneath her skirt.

She didn't usually wear skirts, even now that her position demanded a bit more professionalism from her wardrobe. But, she'd had a meeting with a particularly high- ranking member of parliament today, and had worn the suit to look as professional as possible.

She'd lost the stockings shortly after the meeting, the heels soon after entering Pete's office, and the jacket was draped over some chair in her lab, but she was still wearing the button down shirt and green skirt.

"I think you should wear these all the time." Pete offered, his fingers toying with the waistband of her knickers from underneath the aforementioned garment. "Easier access."

He finally stopped teasing and hooked his fingers into the elastic band, sliding the lacy scrap of fabric down her legs and off of the ends of her feet, tossing them unceremoniously onto the floor.

By the time he dropped back into his desk chair, she'd cottoned onto his game, and was finding it suddenly hard to breathe.

He pushed her skirt up and out of the way with one hand as his other hand traced patterns on the insides of her upper thighs, lightly pushing her legs open. That was all the encouragement she required.

He brought both his hands down, then. One hand was resting on her left thigh, while the other dropped between her legs to trace faint patterns that were far too light. She hated when he teased her.

"C'mon, Wisdom." She sighed heavily. "I was promised a kiss, remember?"

"Too right, luv." Pete raised his eyes to meet hers, grinning smugly at her while brushing the rough pad of his thumb over her clitoris hard. She groaned loudly enough that anyone walking by his office probably heard her. "I promised."

Pete lowered his head in between her legs, his tongue tracing the same frustrating patters that his fingers had been creating moments earlier. She thought she might kill him, until, suddenly, he pushed his tongue deeper, taking the place of his thumb. At that point, she forgave him the brief moments of teasing.

When his mouth starting working in earnest, she forgave him not only that but anything else wrong that he could possibly do for the foreseeable future.

Pete might have a myriad of skills developed from a lifetime of spying and Intelligence. He might have situational awareness that many would kill to possess, and a detail-oriented memory that made him particularly good at his job. However, as he slid two fingers easily inside of her, Kitty was reminded, once again, that his most valuable skills had been learned elsewhere.

She really wished that she knew where to send the champagne and flowers.

"Ah… Pete. So fucking good. Yes. That's—_Yes._" She urged, raising her hands over her head to grab the edge of his desk rather than chance pulling out his hair. He chuckled against her and the vibration nearly sent her over the edge.

When he added a third finger to his efforts, it was just too much for her to handle, and she came hard, biting down on the inside of her arm to keep herself from yelling.

He brought her down slowly, letting her completely finish shaking and spasming before kissing her stomach and dropping back into his chair to let her recover.

When she was capable of motor control once again, she propped herself up on her elbows, observing the man who could do this to her so easily. He was smiling, smug male satisfaction written into every line on his face.

She trailed her eyes down his abdomen and lower, raising her eyebrows with a faint smirk.

"Well, I'd say it's definitely your turn."

"Seems fair to me." He nodded standing up again. She sat up, reaching for his belt buckle.

"This isn't going to work, you know." She said, unhooking the brown leather. "If you want me to do this, then you're going to have to move so that I can get down on the floor."

Pete shook his head.

"Nah, Pryde. I'd rather be inside you, if you don't mind."

"Seems fair to me." She echoed, grinning up at him. She dropped his belt on the floor and dropped back onto the desk.

He kissed her for real, then, leaning over her on the desk, and she realized, with a sudden thrill, that they were both still mostly dressed. Her body shook with an unexpected wave of arousal and she wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him closer and kissing him back.

"Wisdom, I found that file on Masterson that we were looking for and I—Oh, for God's sake!"

Kitty and Pete broke from their kiss and looked up to see Brian standing in the doorway, clearly more irritated than embarrassed.

"Yes, Braddock?" Pete made no move to back away from Kitty, and she dropped her arm, but left her leg where it was. After all, if Pete wasn't bothered, then neither was she. They were both pretty much still dressed, and it wasn't as though Brian hadn't caught them in worse positions.

"We're trying to get some work done, Wisdom, in case you hadn't noticed." Brian shook his head, raising a hand to cover his eyes in case something that he'd previously thought was covered might not be as hidden as he'd thought.

"Ah. Is that what all of these offices are about, then." Pete forced a dumbfounded expression, and Brian rolled his eyes behind his hand.

"I don't need your sarcasm. What I need is for you to get this information in order so that we can go to our briefing at three."

"Fine. I'll get to it in a minute, here, Braddock. Why don't you just go back to your office and chillax."

"Do what now?" Brian took his hand away, clearly confused enough to require clarification.

"Chillax. God, Brian, get up-to-date on your slang, would you?" Pete snorted. "It's bloody embarrassing, it is."

Brian sighed heavily.

"Look, can you just come to my office when you're… composed?"

"Yes. Now get out."

Brian shut the door behind him.

Kitty giggled.

"Chillax, Wisdom?"

"Had to tell him something. Besides, I like makin' him look like the square." Pete kissed her neck, and Kitty tilted her head, giving him better access.

"Is this a bad time to point out that you didn't know what it meant thirty minutes ago?"

"Not if you want me to stop."

"Never mind."


End file.
